Revolving Doors
by ClassicalyWrote
Summary: There's always an easier way of doing things, but for Tate Langdon, that doesn't seem like a valued option. When he's forced to take music lessons from Violet Harmon's mother, with a side agenda of keeping tabs on his mother Constance's beloved house, he just might find that there's no easy way at all...


**Disclaimer: I DO NOT own American Horror Story. I'm just having fun with fanfiction. I claim nothing. **

It was the soft swaying of musical notes flowing on the night breeze in waves, wafting from the first floor in the house. Carrying it's salvation throughout the woodwork, guiding like vines to wrap around the winding staircase of the marvelous mansion that went by many names, the city favorite being Los Angeles. All the way until it reached its peak, drinking the young girl into an embrace so welcoming that she'd set aside her simple blue walkman to hear... though, her parents would never hear about this revelation. God, no. It remained inside her head along with all her other teenage formalities she'd grown accustomed to letting them label her attitude with. Whatever, her inner thoughts were distracting this peculiar reach for a night's serenity.

Fifteen- year old Violet Harmon lay in a flop atop her purple comforter, legs raised high in an awkward cross, toes having been entered in frilly blue socks with dorky ass smiley faces on them, tapping together to the enhanced volume of her mother's nightly cello session. Violet's mother, Vivien, had taken a job as the music teacher at, yeah, Violet's lovely new LA high school, bathed in daily sunshine, bitches engorged in conversing stories of coke covered nipples, and plastic heels that lit up beyond the fake tanned boobs of the daddy's girls with each step, not to mention, okay, to totally mention the noises made when repeatably abling themselves to every accesible school walkway throughout the long eight hour day. And that really wasn't even the half of the bullshit situation at hand here. Violet missed her hometown, Boston, Massachusettes. This place was too much, too always soon. Maybe it would have been cool for a brief visit to a music festival or something that aligned along the boundaries for teenage rebellion. But to be here everyday, not even able to enjoy a quiet coffee shop without chit chatter wrapped in enourmous bullshit, that envolved John Stamos, or what Leonardo DiCaprio's latest date night might have been like? At least in Boston, the accents weren't mind grating, nor was the constant eternally youthful sunshine. For fuck's sake, not even a cloud in three weeks, what crock of shit was this town's environment built on?

Smirking just a little to feel her lips press together, tasting the earlier remaints of sugar lathered Mountain dew, Violet has to enjoy that thought immensely. LA a bullshit mess? Everything covered in shit. That would bring the sunshine down for the day, hell, maybe even all of the mixing atomic perfume smells. Good, she had managed to cheer herself up enough to make herself familiar with the new strings Vivien had begun to string across, light as air. Her mother was truly talented, to bad her cheating bastard father couldn't see past his warped age craving, college girl phase. Her head begins to dance along the pillow's sheet a rustling caress, no doubt crinkling the fabric to levels that would require it to be dry cleaned more than once. Who cares? She felt good, she needed to do her own thing with the music, it was a tradition after all. The question was, what would it be this time? Placing lyrics from her CD or video cassette tape collection to the enriching symphony? No, maybe she'd make her own out, give that lame ass idea another shot.

Sighing through parted caffeinated lips, Violet lets it cascade her blond hair in a draw back, crinkling her nose as the wetness coating her lips clings onto the hair, making itself calorie bearing known. So she traded a bottle of water for a pop? What could she be expected when the plastic dented front, buzzing near her set of lockers, where she ducked behind to carve out the urge and smoke herself a Marlboro light, called to her? Cracking in two quaters, grumbling about the idiotic prices for soda in this town, followed by an irritated punch to the button, Violet was met with her chilled prize, green and sweating cold moisture in all its glory. You'd better bet she broke that rule by adding in another two silver coins, making her total a dollar and some odd calories, plus a pop for a self indulging prize tonight, working to cheer her senses up with that fresh pack of Marlboro lights she gotten her hands on. Shit, maybe all the intake would allow her to grow some decent boobs. Not that she lacked, or aspired to be a big breasted cheap skate. She just wanted a little extra. It'd be nice. Or, she'd be a flat chested, fedora wearing grandma until she ended coughing up a lung from the smoke.

Going on singing out her own cooking lyrics to the soft melody, so she'd maybe... stop thinking with so much energy, Violet lets her petite frame dodge the ball in her covers, rolling with a grumble across various school textbooks until her sock feet hit the cherrywood flooring, allowing her a granting stretch of limbs that felt so good a self taught lyric came about, making her hum it out. " A granted a bullshit past, this LA life can kiss my ass. "

It was funny to her, causing a simple snorting rumble to break free. Along with a whole hell of a lot else. Violet's senses snapped her head like one big mental rubber band, washing through her like a bad dip in the loser end of the swimming pool. What in the fuck was that? It'd been the third time this week she'd heard the noise. Did she tell her parents? Nah, this old place was cool, why use and abuse that factor for a little chicken shit curiosity about bump in the night noises.

Violet forces her arms to flatten back to her sides, her purple band tee hiding the cold air that had dumped over her flesh from the stretching moments ago, climbing to her nightstand to avoid anymore mistaking wall edges in the room. She was sick of needing band-aids for bruised toes, that didn't settle well buried underneath her converse all day long. Reaching out, her fingers grasp the deep lush green, curling around it to pull it to its owner, her dark brown orbs scanning the time in those big red letters. 7:05 PM. Just after the sun had settled to make way for the bearable nighttime covering. That noise made itself known about this time every day since it had started, shaking the glass window panes on the right side, opposite Violet's bed that she'd backed into the long door like windows for privacy.

"Son of a bitch." She muttered, the window catching her attention, Vivien's music had died down now to cheers of thanks from the small audience that surrounded her in this house's parlor room, leaving the upstairs a hollow silences dense, that fogged Violet's mind to the point that she needed to remind herself to take a simple deep breath. Ignoring how the window seemed to get darker, her vision playing those time consuming tricks she played it off as, Violet allows her lashes to fluttered closed, reddening her vision to getting used to the scenery behind her lids, before she breathes in, letting the relaxing aroma of her cigarette stained, lavendar scented bed sheets, calm her to the point of total sanity again. Pinching her t-shirt between oddly bit nails, she lets her lids part open, only to see something, holy fuck, SOMETHING! NO! SOMEONE!

"Holy shit!" Her key phrase leaves a caught in shout, a worried lip forgotten to make room to the overbearing sharpness of the teen's teeth as they sink so hard into the flesh it breaks, lining the tip of her tongue with copper.

Violet's ears begun to ring static, clenching in an internal physical hand hold, clogging her throat that felt as if a fist wrapped around it, punching her lungs along the way, gagging her from letting out the appropriate scream. What did she see? A rustled mop of blonde curls, fluttering in a golden array. Should she be relieved that this was a person? Maybe one of those blond bimbo bambi hoes seeking out revenge for the cigarette butts she popped into their lockers? Curiosity, it killed the cat, and if Violet died in LA, then this was it, goodbye teeange years, her smiley faced socks continued to betray her, their shapes remaining the same as Violet approached the window, closer, a bit more, then there... Almost...

And thats pretty much when it happened for her. The sight she took in scaring the god given sarcasm right out of her. There, reflected in the glass were the darkest eyes she'd ever seen set inside a human being before, black to the touch, swimming in riches with the pupils and all. A twisted gleam bounce from said eyes to the thumb that lay clad in a winding snake symbol silver. The features proportioned just right, and you know what, Violet couldn't have been more fucking seething, scared back into that once daddy's girl she'd been at some elementary school age, at this unwelcomed intruder clinging to the window pane, about to work it open...

_Well, that was my first AHS fic. I had some trouble uploading it because first off, I forgot to put the disclaimer, misspelled something in the summary, so... had to work that shit out, and I know I'm not the best at punctuation, so if there's a beta out there who can help, let me know please. Thanks. Lemme know what you think in reviews if you liked it! :)_ **- ClassicalyWrote**


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